That Man Is A Lady
by RhiannonNymph
Summary: He's not quite himself. Not at all.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anything, this idea isn't even one hundred percent original, and I'm not making any money, nor do I intend infringement.

**SPOILERS: **Pretend the season three episode line up went: 'Malleus Maleficarum' followed by 'Jus In Bello' and that some time has passed since JIB and you'll be in my twisted world. There are ditches, so don't leave the path.

**A/N: **I know there are a lot of 'Dean or Sam turn into a girl' stories out there, but I ask that you read mine anyway. It's different than others (at least I hope - I haven't read them all) but there's something of twist in what I have in mind, so bare with me.

* * *

"That Man Is A Lady"

Chapter One

It was their second night in town and they were spending it at the poorly lit bar near their motel. Not without cause of course, they were low on cash and the day had done nothing but frustrate the brothers. So Dean was currently prowling the pool tables, a few female onlookers following his every move. Sam was off at a corner table, his laptop drowned in a sea of paper.

They were in town following up a lead Bobby had given them. Apparently a friend of his had called and talked about neighbors empting out bank accounts and when confronted by spouses (who did their confronting loudly, and at least once in public) didn't know where the money went, people acting wildly out of character and then disappearing. As far as they could tell no one had been possessed, of course there were no "survivors" to speak to or bodies to check out. Sam thought it was either another shapeshifter problem (and who knew there could be so many of them) or witchcraft.

As much as he didn't want to deal with witches, he felt he'd had fill of shapeshifters and wanted that even less.

The last coven they'd ran into thought they were doing harmless magic to get better deals on mortgage rates. If a coven was behind this, they were practicing harmful magic to steal and were ruining lives on purpose.

But they'd hit town and then promptly hit a stone wall. They had no idea who was practicing, or who might be practicing, or who the shifter could be and there was no one new to town (aside from the "shifty boys just got a room down at the motel" an old man said as they were leaving breakfast that morning. Dean went out of his way to bump into the man).

They had a big, fat nothing. And the more time they had to spend here, the less time Sam had to work on a way to save his brother. And that was unacceptable.

The dim light was starting to give Sam a headache, and since he was alone in his research he needed better light. He gathered up his things and headed towards Dean.

"I'm going."

Dean put his beer bottle on the edge of the pool table, "Aw, come on man. The night is young."

A pretty girl with a pool stick walked by them, over his shoulder Sam heard her say, "First your money, then your clothes."

"You supposed to be winning, Dean." he said with a sigh. He guessed he'd given Dean to much leeway in 'recreational time', because he was bringing back girls more and more since…well, since.

His brother grinned, his eyes following the girl, before he looked at his brother, "Oh, I'm gonna win, Sammy."

He winced and held out his hand. "Win money, okay? Keys." he doubted he'd be sleeping in a bed to night. Dean was looking to bring this girl, some girl, any girl back with him. That leaves Sam the Impala and her back seat. He'd slept there before, tonight would be nothing new.

"Yeah, here." Dean handed over his car keys. Sam moved to leave when Dean grabbed his arm. Sam turned and took in the half smile on his brothers face, "No monkey business."

He rolled his eyes and left the bar. He stayed in the room until he heard Dean and whatever girl he'd charmed into coming back with him coming down the hall. Dean always made just enough noise to let you know he was on his way, but not enough to piss anyone else off. It gave Sam a few seconds to gather what he wanted and make like a bandit.

He fell asleep with a rolled up t-shirt pressed between his back and the Impala's paneling, and a book across his chest. When he woke in the morning his neck hurt and he had a bad taste in his mouth.

He left the book and all his papers from the night before in the car, grabbed his lap top and some clean clothes and headed back to the room. He opened the door just a crack and listened. He'd had to walk in on Dean before, but he didn't have to now, so if his brother was still…entertaining his female friend; Sam would just close the door and go for breakfast.

It was quiet, no rustle of fabric, no moans. Sounded like safety. He chanced a peek around the door to make sure everything that should be covered, was, saw a lump of a person under a heap of covers on the bed and headed strait for the bathroom.

He sat down at the table, opened his laptop and waited for his brother to wake up. It was about an hour before the lump under the covers moved, and let out a groan. It wouldn't have bothered Sam, but it didn't sound like it had come from his brother.

He leaned back in the chair to try and get a glimpse of who was moving. What he saw was a head of hair to dark and to long to be Dean's.

When the girl sat up, so did Sam.

"Jesus." he didn't bother to note if she was clothed or not, the shiner on her face had him a bit more concerned. He hadn't remembered seeing any girl with a black eye last night. He started toward the bed. The brusie stretched out from her eye, it looked like it covered half her face. It was a dark purple at its worst, and still red at the edges. He'd be surprised if she could open that eye.

"Huh?" she said, sleep and confusion in her voice. Her eyes were still closed, and her face was scrunched up like she was trying to fight off a migraine.

Sam was crouched by the bedside, "Are you okay? Did…did…" he didn't want to finish that thought. Never, ever in his life would Dean hit a woman…who wasn't a demon, or possessed by one. His hands were hovering over the edge of the bed, did he touch her shoulder? Did he try to get a better look at the bruising?

The girl regarded him with serious brown eyes, "What? God my head hurts. What happened?" she brought a hand to her face, "What happened to my eye? I get in a fight?"

Sam's brows knit together, his head cocked to the side and his mouth was open. He moved to his own bed and sat down with a breathy, "Uhhh…"

"Dude, seriously, what the hell is going on, why are you looking at me like that?" he just didn't know what to say. "SAM?!"

"Dean?"

"No, it's the freakin' tooth fairy. What's wrong with you Sam?"

'_Oh, oh this is bad…'_ Sam thought.

He didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to laugh hysterically, he _was _seeing what he was seeing, of that he was sure. But the other part of him (which he figured to be the greater part, since he wasn't laughing) was freaking out, because this was so beyond normal, even for them.

And he didn't have the first idea how to fix it. He could summon Ruby, but Dean really, really wouldn't like that. Sam bet that even as a girl, his brother could pack a punch.

"SAM!" with that shout, the young woman in front of Sam stiffened up. Dean was hearing his voice for the first time. "What. The. Hell."

-- -- -- SPN -- -- --

Dean all but ripped the covers away from his body as he made his way to the bathroom. He almost stumbled, not because he was tangled in sheets, but because his center of gravity was off. His stride felt wrong, his limbs felt wrong. He didn't want to look down at himself.

He paused for a second at the bathroom door, then moved forward.

"Son of a BITCH!"

He had really, really wanted his own face to be looking back at him. Instead there was just the slender face of a chick - an average looking chick. Brown hair, brown eyes…nothing special. Forget shifters, it had to be spell-slingers.

He hated witches. Absolutely _hated _them.

They hadn't managed to track them down yet, but when they did, he was going to really let them have it.

He saw Sam come to the bathroom door, he whirled on his brother. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I-" he shrugged. He could have pummeled his brother right there. He could see it in Sammy's eyes; he wanted to laugh. Dean wanted to rip his long brown hair out.

Instead he shoved past Sam, and started rummaging through clothes on the floor. Some of them were distinctly girls clothing, and for the first time he realized he'd been stomping around the room in underwear. "Where'd she go? When did she leave?"

"Who-"

"The girl from last night, Sam! Come on!" he had a pair of pants in his hands.

"I didn't see, Dean. I slept in the car."

He pulled on the pants, they hugged his thighs. How was he supposed to accomplish anything in these? He bent his knees a few times, trying to get the fabric to loosen up; when he bent he could feel the waist of the jeans slip down. "You've got to be kidding me." he whispered. How chicks did anything in clothes that clung to your every curve was a mystery to him. One he was unfortunately going to have to find out.

He opted for one of his own shirts. Pulling a grey t-shirt over his head, he spotted his necklace on the table. He grabbed that too, and put it on. He spent a moment looking the room over, "I need some freaking shoes!"

He let out a growl of frustration, which only served to irritate him more because it didn't sound manly in the least. He covered his face and took a deep breath.

"Dude, are you crying?"

"No, I am not crying! I'll get my other boots out of the car. Let's go." He grabbed the keys, and stalked outside.

"They won't fit, you know." Sam's words followed him. Dean stopped, flexed his toes over the cold concrete. He knew they wouldn't fit, nothing was going to fit. If it wouldn't have come out like a girl in a slasher flick, he would have screamed. He'd had a really rotten year. Everyday was a step towards Hell, and now he was going to come to the party as girl.

Sam was at his side now, shoes in hand, "Under the bed." Dean took them without a word and got in the car. Sam followed, "So…"

"We're going back to the bar. We're gonna find that bitch, and we're gonna fix me."

* * *

I have this story mapped out, so updates depend on my actually getting things written down. Anyhow, let me know what you think, input is always nice.

P.S. How awesome was the season premiere? Ah-mazing!


	2. Chapter 2

"That Man Is A Lady"

Chapter 2

The bar was still closed when they got there. Dean pulled the car around to the back, and told Sam they'd go in there, someone was sure to be around.

"Maybe you should stay in the car." Sam suggested.

He shot his brother a look, "Stay in the car? Do realize what happened to me, Sam?"

Sam was fighting back a smile, "Yes, but-"

"No, don't you laugh." He didn't understand what the hell his brother was thinking. He wasn't going to sit this thing out, not as long as he had a pair of tits on his chest. It just wasn't right. He was so angry, he couldn't even enjoy it. He actually felt kind of sick.

"Dean, half your face is a bruise." Sam said. Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel; long, slender fingers wrapped around the cool leather. The hands he was looking at were so painfully girly; it made him want to punch something. He'd probably break one of those girly fingers.

Sam didn't seem to take notice, "I mean, what are you going to do? Walk in there are ask where the girl you were with last night is now? You're not exactly yo-"

"I know what I look like." he tried to glare at his brother, but brown hair fell across his face. He pushed the hair behind his ear, it didn't stay there long. He wondered what trick he was missing; he'd seen girls do it a million times. Hell, if they did it right it was totally hot. He just couldn't pull it together and get it to stay behind his ear. After his fourth attempt, he grabbed the wheel and shook it for all he was worth, hair going every which way. Sam turned away, no doubt hiding a smile and a laugh as his shoulders shook. He let go of the wheel, took a breath and just pushed the hair out of his face.

"We need to get, you know-" he motioned to his head, "those things. " He opened his door and left Sam in his wake.

"Scrunches?"

God, this was going to be the longest, most horrible day of his life.

* * *

Sam watched a woman's body march off in his brothers clothes. It might not have been so weird if it hadn't still been Dean walking off. She walked with Dean's gait; shoulders moving just like Dean's would have as he marched off in anger.

He stifled a laugh, and jogged to catch up.

"Just…let me do the talking, okay?" he had to throw a hand against the door to make Dean stop.

"Fine."

Sam smiled at him-her-him?, and pulled open the door, "Lady's first." Her.

He got a sharp elbow to the ribs as the brunette passed.

He'd half expected to walk into the store room, where Dean would undoubtedly push a case outside the door claiming 'pain and suffering'. Instead they were just in a hallway, near the bathrooms. They walked past the posters advertising various beers, neon signs and a mirror with the word Corona etched into it.

The bar was brighter, but just as dirty as it looked to have been last night. Just once he'd like to go to a nice bar.

They made it out to the main floor; the barkeep was stocking new bottles along the wall. "Look, why don't you…just…go look around."

"Sam."

"Dean." he straightened, "Deana?"

"If I wasn't worried about breaking a finger, I'd punch you right in the face."

He laughed and walked towards the bar. With a look back, he saw a slender girl swimming in men's clothing, bend down to look around a pool table. It was definitely Dean; he had no class, even as a woman. He should have squatted down; bending her body over like that showed off her …Sam shook his head, screaming at himself. It's not some place he should be looking. Period. Looked like a girl, but was a dude.

Girl is a dude, girl is a dude, girl is a dude…girl is Dean, for crying out loud. He shuddered.

"How'd you get in here?"

He brought his eyes up to a dark haired man, probably in his early thirties. Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a badge. "I'm looking for someone. A young lady, maybe…" he tried to remember how the girl looked, "maybe twenty-five, blonde, attractive?"

"Yeah, sure. We don't get more than three people in here at any given time."

He rolled his eyes, "She was playing pool."

The bartenders face lost its stubbornness, "Oh yeah, yeah. The real hot chick that was hanging out with that tool."

"Excuse me?"

Sam looked over his shoulder; delicate brows were drawn together in an angry glare that was so perfectly Dean.

The man looked at Sam like the girl behind him must be dumb, you could hear it in his voice, "The dude was a jackass-"

"You don't even know him."

Sam smirked. There were times that women said things in a tone of voice, which if directed at you, could make you feel like the biggest dumbass on earth. Like you really, truly had no clue, even if the woman in question was totally wrong. Sam heard that now. He wondered if Dean even knew how it sounded.

The bartender seemed a little taken aback, "He your boyfriend or something?" He held his hands up, "Look, I'm not looking for trouble." He pointed a finger over Sam's shoulder, "You should have done something about it last night. Whatever he did with that girl isn't my problem."

"What?" both of them said at once.

The man looked between them, pointing again he said, "She was sitting over there the whole night. If she wanted to keep him in line that's her business. I'm not a baby sitter." He looked at Dean, "Sorry your boyfriends a loser."

Sam looked back, eyes wide, and shared a look with the girl that was his brother. Her lips worked to form words, but Sam could see the questions flying through his eye a mile a minute. "What?" was all that came out.

"You were-"

"Thank you." Sam cut him off, grabbed Dean's arm and hauled him off towards the car.

Once outside he let go. He took a few steps toward the car before he turned. "Dean," it was less funny now. "The girl from last-"

"This is not the girl I brought back to the room!" he said, indicating the body. "Somebody stole my body Sam! Someone stole my _body_." he sank back, talking to himself, "This is worse than when Andy drove off in my car."

Sam was standing, dumbfounded, arms at his sides.

Deep brown eyes shot up from the ground to lock with his green. "How does someone even do that?"

"I don't, I don't know. But we'll figure it out; we'll get your body back." That had to be one of the weirdest things he'd ever said.

"How? How do we find…me? I mean, you don't steal someone's body and then hang around town waiting for the rightful owner to come find you. Whoever did this is big time, Sam. They're gonna be gone already."

"Okay." he rounded the car, "Let's go."

Sam tucked his lanky frame into the passenger seat. They made a run though town, looking for Dean's flesh. The headed for the state line after they realized whoever was wearing Dean's body really had skipped town.

* * *

In the car, Sam made a phone call, "Hey Bobby, Dean and I are on our way to you." He stole a glance at his brother, and then had to look out the window to keep from laughing. "No, no…uh, we sorta ran into a problem." This time he couldn't help it, he laughed a little, "I'll fill you in when we get to you."

"This is serious." Dean interjected, absolutely no hint of amusement in his very feminine voice, face, or posture at all. In fact it was weird to refer to him _as him _when he looked like that.

_She_ had her hands clenched on the wheel, eyes straight ahead and frown permanently etched onto _her_ face.

No, it was too weird to call him her, too. Sam smiled into the phone, "Uh, no…it's, it's really something you have to see. We'll be there in…six hours or so." Dean dropped his foot on the accelerator, "Whoa, Dean, geez." He momentarily braced himself against the sudden increase of speed.

He put the phone back to his ear, "Maybe four. Yeah, see ya." He put his phone away and looked over at Dean, "You okay there, sweetheart?"

"Shut up, Sam." His eyes didn't move. He finally spared Sam a look, "Someone is out there in my body, my actual body, okay. It's not a shifter, so whatever they do to it is permanent and I have to deal with it. So _excuse me _if I'm in a bit of a hurry."

He regarded his brother for a moment. He sounded so naturally feminine, he was starting to wonder if time in a female body was affecting his brain, "Dean, we're going to get…you back. I promise. But come on, it's a bit funny."

"No it's not. I have a freakin' headache - the light is killing my eyes, your voice is killing my ears and I feel like someone's punching me in the kidneys, and oh yeah, I'M A CHICK!"

Sam started laughing. Deep, hearty belly laughs. "Dude, I think you PMSing!"

"WHAT?"

* * *

He thought me might have gotten whiplash, he turned to fast. What did Sam know about PMS? God, his lower back was killing him, he just wanted to twist and crack it.

"You know…a…monthly "friend"." He could have crushed Sam for the air quotes. But he was the only one of them to have had a real steady girlfriend…

What did Dean know about female anatomy? Girls make babies? That 'time of the month' crap didn't mean anything to him. What was he supposed to do? How did that work?

Jesus, were the seats getting stained up even now? He shot a look down at himself. He didn't see anything. There was more hair in his eyes.

He didn't know enough to call Sam a lair. And it would fit his brand of luck to have some chick steal his body right as hers was starting a…a…he didn't want to say it. "What do I do?"

Sam was laughing, all out laughing, and Dean wanted to shove a sock down his throat, "Come on, man, this is serious!"

"I don't know." He managed to get out, "Should I call Bobby back?"

"Oh, god." Dean moaned. He hated the girly voice that issued forth more than ever now, "I'm going to kill this girl. With _my_ bare hands."

He was going to have to find a store of some kind. Great. Just great.

* * *

Sorry, I suck at updating this. But R and R and let me know what you think. More to come!


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